


Deleted Scenes

by Annaelle



Series: Optical Delusion of Consciousness [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Absolute Magnetism, And feels, Deleted Scenes, F/M, I'm so sorry, M/M, Optical Delusion of Consciousness, Psychedelic Inebriation, Rey is forced into doing things here, sooooo many feels, there's also other scenes, will contain deleted scenes from the entire trilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted scenes from the Optical Delusion of Consciousness series. <br/>Contains Rey/Poe, Rey/Kylo Ren, non-con and dub-con, violence, feeeeeels and fluff that will make your teeth ache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poe & Rey's First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's first time with Poe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Meaghan, who has gracefully beta'd this for me, all the while yelling at me for daring to add Spanish to Poe's vocabulary :p
> 
> Thanks, darling, you're the best!
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS This story will likely not be updated as regularly and frequently as Psychedelic Inebriation, if only because there are fewer scenes and I am currently working on PI's sequel as well.

## “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  
―Eleanor Roosevelt

“I suppose you’ll do.”

The words are spoken coldly, by a short woman with light skin and shockingly black hair that is artfully piled on top of her head. The woman appears no more than a decade older than Rey, but there is a hardness in the woman’s brown eyes that feels unfamiliar and _threatening_ , and Rey is unsure of how to defend herself against this woman.

She is keenly aware of the General’s gaze on her back as she stands before the short but intimidating woman in her underclothes, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides, refusing to show them _any_ kind of weakness.

Her heart is pounding, and she feels slightly lightheaded as she forces herself to breathe calmly and evenly. She knows there is no escape from D’Qar in her near future—the A-wing she had used to get to Takodana is still there, hidden in the woods near Maz Kanata’s cantina, and she has no way of returning there.

The only option she has is doing as General Solo had told her upon her arrival.

“She’ll be popular, I’m sure,” the aforementioned man speaks up from behind her, and Rey has to suppress the urge to shudder in disgust at the excitement in his voice.

The woman sneers and takes a few steps forward, until she is quite literally standing nose-to-nose with Rey. She reaches out and tugs on Rey’s underclothes until they are a measly little heap of beige fabric on the floor by her feet.

Her skin puckers and she feels nauseous under the woman’s blatant scrutiny of her nude form. She feels humiliated and _filthy_ , and she wishes she could cover up or hide, because she _knows_ this will be the least painful and frightening part of her day, but—

She is not weak.

And she refuses to let General Solo think he’s managed to break her so easily.

“How many partners have you had?” The woman asks imperturbably, reaching up to poke at one of Rey’s breasts before walking around her in a small circle.

“None,” Rey rasps, clenching her eyes shut for a moment as she desperately attempts to rein in her emotions—she can do this. She _has_ to do this—she’s got no other options left, short of starving to death in that little chamber they had kept her in for the first week after her arrival.

She yelps and winces when the woman slaps her behind harshly. “ _Don’t_ lie to me, you little whore.”

“I’m _not_ ,” she spits, whirling around to face the shorter woman. “You asked how many people I’ve slept with—I’m telling you I’ve not slept with anyone. I’m eighteen, and I lived on a desert planet—there weren’t a lot of appealing options and opportunities.”

A satisfied smile spreads across the woman’s face at Rey’s furious retort and she nods towards General Solo. “She’ll need to be fixed up a little, but I should have her ready to go tonight. I suggest you find one of your men deserving of a reward, if you don’t plan on using her yourself.”

Rey feels sickened at the implication, but the older man merely grins devilishly—and Rey supposes it was a devastatingly handsome smile when he was younger—and shakes his head. “Ah, Jessika… You know Leia would have my head,” he says wistfully, his eyes lingering on Rey’s chest for far too long. “Perhaps another time, when she is preoccupied with her politics… Besides, I prefer experienced women—I do loathe having them cry in my ear about how much it hurts.”

The woman—Jessika, apparently—chuckles before reaching for a datapad. “Dameron requested a girl. Didn’t he just successfully finish an important mission? He seems like the kind to appreciate a pure little gem like this one.”

Rey winces again and, this time, does not resist the urge to cover herself somewhat. She wraps her arms around her chest and bites her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as she listens to the two arrange which of the scumbags on this Force-forsaken planet gets to be her first fuck so that she won’t be forced to stay in a little room until she’d die of starvation.

“I can do this,” she whispers to herself. “I _have_ to do this.”

Jessika and General Solo turn to her again, and she feels so _exposed_ and _afraid_. “Get her ready,” Solo orders, never once stopping his intense perusal of her nude form. “I’ll let Dameron know. Just give her the whole works—haircut, shaving, everything.”

Jessika nods, and Solo grins before stepping forward, curling his fingers around Rey’s bare hip. “Behave for Dameron, won't you? He's going to teach you all sorts of nice tricks—and I'll be sure to come by sooner or later to see how well you've been serving the Resistance.”

She can’t quite hide the flinch that shivers through her entire body at that, but she refuses to back down and tilts her chin up to glare at him.

He just chuckles and pats her cheek before turning to Jessika. “Have fun taming this one.”

.

.

.

Hours later, Rey finds herself in the mess hall, her plate filled with a steaming heap of food so large she is unsure she’ll ever be able to eat it all—but it sure won’t be for a lack of trying.

The vegetables are juicy and crunchy, and the meat nearly melts in her mouth, and she catches herself thinking that _maybe_ the price she’d pay for this meal tonight would be worth it, because this has to be _the_ most delicious food she has ever had. Even the _juice_ she’d been given is absolutely delicious—fruity and sweet and unlike anything she’s ever had before.

“So you’re new, right?”

She turns slowly to face one of the only other girls still seated at the table—most of the other girls had either left to begin their _duties_ by themselves, or had been picked up by one of the more rowdy men in the mess. She’s pretty, with auburn hair and kind green eyes, but with that same haunted look in her eyes that Rey’s seen on every other girl—woman—that was seated at this table.

“Yes,” she nods, pushing a large piece of green vegetable around her plate.

“I’m Dakini,” the girl offers, reaching out to shake Rey’s hand—Rey stares at her for a few moments before taking her proffered hand. “Welcome to the Resistance.”

Rey wants to laugh at that, because that has to be _the_ most ridiculous thing anyone’s said to her since she got here, but it seems like the poor girl is absolutely serious—and that in itself may be even more laughable. “I’m Rey,” she finally replies, before shoving the piece of vegetable in her mouth, hoping she’ll be spared any further conversation with these people.

“So do you know who you’re assigned to yet?”

No such luck, apparently.

“Dameron—someone,” she sighs, setting down her cutlery—and as unused as she is to using them to eat, she must admit it is a cleaner way to eat—before turning back to Dakini.

“Oh,” Dakini drawls, grinning brightly. “Lucky you. Poe doesn’t usually ask for us girls—but he _is_ good to have on your first night.” She must recognize the indignation on Rey’s face, because she whines sympathetically and leans forward to pat Rey’s arm. “Don’t worry, honey, the first night is always the worst—but Poe’s really the best you could have asked for.”

Rey can’t help it—she really can’t.

She snorts and shakes her head. “I honestly don’t feel so lucky.”

She sighsand looks down again, chewing on her lower lip as her earlier appetite completely evaporates at the thought of what she’ll likely have to do with this _Poe Dameron_ —things she’d managed to avoid on Jakku for _years_. She feels nauseous and dizzy, and she’s never wished for her old AT-AT more.

“Oh,” she hears Dakini mutter. “Oh, no, it’s okay. Hey—I’m not kidding when I say Poe’s a good guy to have on your first night. He’ll be really good to you, I promise.”

“Force, Dakini,” a female Togruta speaks from across the table. “Can’t you tell the girl’s nervous? Give her some Zeltron—it makes it easier every time.” Several of the other girls mutter in agreement, and one of them—an extremely attractive woman with hot pink skin and deep blue hair—laughs delightedly before pulling a flask from a leather satchel.

“There you go, lass,” the woman says with a toothy smile. “Drink up—ye’ll not _want_ to keep yer hands off Dameron.”

Rey hesitantly accepts the flask and sniffs it cautiously, unsure of what drinking the dark liquid will do to her to make tonight _easier_. “What is this?” She asks slowly, reaching for her empty glass and pouring some of the strong-smelling, sky-blue liquid in it.

“Zeltron’s spiced wine, lass,” the pink-skinned woman grins. “It’ll make you _want_ him, little girl.”

Rey eyes her warily as the other girls giggle, not quite successful in hiding the tremor that shivers through her entire body at the thought of being intoxicated to the extent of _wanting_ to be touched by a disgusting piece of crap that gets off on _forcing_ women into his bed.  

“Just a sip’ll do,” the Togruta female says. “You’re not going to be so nervous anymore then. It feels better when you’re not nervous. Much easier to enjoy yourself.”

The other women nod in agreement before they begin to chatter amongst themselves once again. Rey exhales in relief as their attention shifts away from her and returns her attention to the food before her—her plate is still half-full, but the imminent prospect of losing her virginity to a man she’s never even met before makes her feel sick, and she doesn’t feel very hungry anymore.

She eyes the glass of spiced wine the girls had given her and debates downing its contents—on the plus side, she’d likely enjoy the encounter a lot more under the influence of an aphrodisiac. On the downside, it may cloud her judgement and memories later on, and she _never_ wants to forget that she was _forced_ into doing this.

Before she can come to a decision, Jessika appears in front of her, dressed in garments that are obviously meant to catch male attention and to seduce. “Time to go, little girl,” she tells Rey—who is completely distracted by the bright red of the woman’s lips—before pushing at Dakini’s shoulder. “And you—the Admiral’s waiting for you. You’re his for the next week. Make sure you please him, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes, Jessika,” Dakini squeaks, and suddenly there is nothing left of the bubbly girl Rey had spoken to earlier—her smile falls from her lips and she pales a little, and Rey watches as she takes a healthy swig from the flask containing the spiced wine before she gets to her feet. It is not the first time one of the girls leave from the table, but this time, there is a more audible response from the men in the mess—several of them whistle after Dakini as she leaves the large hall—and Rey deduces that Dakini must be one of the so-called popular girls.

“Come, little Rey,” Jessika sneers, tugging on Rey’s wrist impatiently. “Dameron will expect you to be waiting for him in his chambers.”

Rey doesn’t reply—she’s too afraid she’ll throw up if she opens her mouth—and simply glares up into Jessika’s brown eyes as she takes a defiant sip of the spiced wine. She had seen the slight anger in Jessika’s eyes when Dakini drank from the wine, and she guesses the woman _likes_ seeing the girls squirm before they have to do their duty.

Rey refuses to let Jessika see how nervous—how scared—she is.

If this wine helps, then she'll drink the wine; pissing Jessika off is a nice bonus.

Jessika doesn’t say anything as Rey rises, blinking lazily as she feels the effects of the wine spread throughout her body. She had felt odd and overly exposed in the flowing white robes Jessika had dressed her in after she had been washed and shaved—the fabric is soft as silk and it fits her upper body like a glove before it flares out at her hips—but her skin feels overly sensitive, and the fabric soothes over her sensitive skin like a balm over a burn.

She feels warmer than before, and having every man’s eyes on her as she leaves the mess bothers her a lot less than it had when she entered.

Jessika guides her through several hallways until they stand before a non-descript steel door in the pilots’ wing of the base. “Entrance code is 1612,” Jessika tells her brusquely. “Poe will be here soon—he has not given any specific instructions for tonight, but you will comply with whatever he wishes nonetheless. He’ll likely not expect you to spend the night, so once he has finished with you, return to the chambers that I showed you earlier.”

And that is that.

She is shoved inside and the door is slammed behind her, leaving her standing in the middle of the elusive Poe Dameron’s chambers by herself.

It’s a fairly neat room, though there is a chair piled with what looks to be dirty laundry, and a pile of books next to the bed that seems to be serving as a nightstand. There’s nothing overly personal in the room that would tell her more of the man she’s going to lose her virginity to, and she is unsure whether that is comforting or frightening.

Before she can decide on a course of action, the door hisses open behind her, and the man in question steps inside, followed closely by an orange and white droid, which is beeping rapidly and excitedly, rolling in circles around the man’s legs.

She turns, and her breath catches in her throat—because Poe Dameron is _nothing_ like she expected.

He’s _younger_ than she ever expected him to be, and _handsome_ , and he does not at all resemble the brutish, ugly man she had pictured in her mind. Despite the other girls telling her that Poe was nice, and that she was a lucky girl for getting to spend her first night with him, she’d still been so afraid that she’d just expected someone akin to General Solo—not that Han Solo isn't still an attractive man, but there is something hard and cold and _ugly_ lingering in his eyes.  

Poe, however, is no more than a few years older than her, and he actually _looks_ like a nice and good person, with kind, chocolate brown eyes and full lips with little laugh lines in the corners.

“Oh,” he breathes when he realizes she’s there, his fingers tightening around the strap of the pack he’s got slung over his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be here already.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, stunned by his sudden appearance, before shaking her head and offering, “I can go… If you—I mean… I suppose I could come back later.” She doesn’t know what he expects of her—doesn’t know if she could give it to him in the first place—but if he’s offering her an out, she might just take it.

“No,” he shakes his head, offering her a brilliant smile. “No, it’s all good. I just—” He wrinkles his nose and gestures towards himself. “I haven’t actually showered in a few days… I could smell a little.”

She doesn’t reply verbally, but she can’t help but snort—as though she cares about any of that—and he chuckles a little as he steps further into the room, dropping the bag at the foot of his bed as the little droid rolls towards its designated charging spot with a last indignant beep directed towards its Master.

“So,” Poe starts, stripping off his leather coat and tossing it onto the already overflowing chair. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He steps forward, offering her another one of those _brilliantly_ gorgeous smiles, and holds out his hand. “I’m Poe.” She stares at him, _baffled_ by the entire exchange, because _what is she supposed to do_ _now_?

Just shake his hand like this is a pleasant meeting between acquaintances?

He seems to realize just how _odd_ this is at the same time she does, and runs his fingers through his hair with an awkward grin. “Yeah, I’m sorry, that was weird— _this_ is weird. I really don’t do this kind of thing often—I’m sorry if I’m being awkward.”

“What do you want me to do for you tonight?” She asks demurely, chewing on her lower lip as she studies Poe’s muscular form. She supposes she sees why the girls saw her as lucky to have Poe on her first night—he’s handsome and he looks like he knows what he’s doing—and she supposes she is at least a little bit attracted to him.

She wonders how much of that attraction is down to the spiced wine.

He gapes at her—but honestly, what did he expect? He did ask for a girl—for a long moment before he recovers and offers her another smile. “Nothing,” he finally replies, shaking his head a little. “I just asked for a girl for company—I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“What?”

Whatever she’d expected him to say, it had _not_ been that.

He smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “Well, it’s hardly fun for me if you’re not enjoying it, too.” When she remains silent—she just _really_ doesn’t know what to say—he sighs and says, “Well, I’m going to take that shower anyway… Just make yourself at home—there’s probably a drink in the cupboard… Watch a holovid if you’d like. I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, she’s alone in the room again, staring towards the bathroom entrance until she hears the sound of the fresher start up.

She still feels utterly _overwhelmed_ , and she’s unsure what to make of Poe’s carefree attitude—it’s almost like he thinks he’s just having a friend over for drinks.

_Watch a holovid?_

What the Pfassk is she supposed to do with that?

She rubs her fingers over her temples as she moves to sit on the small bed in the corner of the room—no matter what Dameron may have said, she’s sure they’ll end up here at some point, so she might as well get comfortable—to alleviate the slight headache that is starting to buzz behind her eyes.

She jumps when something bumps against her foot, emitting a high-pitched beep. She shakes her head at herself when she realizes it is the droid—a BB-unit, by the looks of it, with a black photoreceptor—that had arrived with Poe, rolling its circular body into her foot repeatedly.

“What is it?” She demands impatiently, wiping a lock of hair from her face as she glares at the little droid. Its antenna is bent, and the sight of it frustrates Rey beyond belief—so much so that she cannot focus on a single thing the droid is beeping at her. “Your antenna is bent,” she tells it, sliding off the bed to kneel before the droid as she reaches out to unscrew the antenna and straighten it.

It beeps in gratitude, and Rey leans back a little as she studies it.

“I guess you’re not going to tell me much about your Master, are you?” She sighs wistfully.

It’s not that she’s _interested_ , so much as _curious_. She hadn’t known what to expect in the first place, but she’s got a feeling that whatever she tells herself, Poe Dameron is going to continue to defy and shatter those expectations.

“Well,” she drawls as the droid remains silent, rolling back and forth a little in front of her. “Tell me what to call you then—I assume you don’t really like being called ‘droid’ all the time.” The droids thrills a high note, and Rey chuckles a little at its exuberance—she’s never quite met a droid with a personality quite like this one.

“BB-8,” she grins, relaxing a little as she focuses all of her attention on the droid. “Catchy.”

And suddenly, the room feels a lot less stifling, and she feels a lot more relaxed—BB-8 is good company, and after babbling about everything and nothing for a while, she agrees to play a simple game of Desert Draw with it. Since they don’t actually have money to play for, she agrees to play for bragging rights, giggling like a madwoman every time BB-8 has a winning hand and spins around the room in wide arcs, beeping loudly.

She’s so caught up in the game that she doesn’t hear Poe re-entering the room until he bursts out laughing after BB-8 wins another round and starts beeping a badly composed victory song.

She freezes, still clutching her losing card, eyeing him nervously—avoiding to look at his tight white shirt, loose trousers and damp curls—maybe she shouldn’t have started talking to his droid. She probably overstepped, and she has no idea how long he’s been there, what he might have heard her say about the Resistance—about _him_.

“I’m sorry,” she stutters as she struggles to get to her feet— _stang_ that stupid dress—keeping her eyes adverted and on the floor. “I didn’t mean to overstep or insult—”

“Oh, hey, no,” Poe chuckles as he pushes off the doorjamb and saunters closer. “Don’t worry about it. Glad someone else knows how to appreciate BB-8’s _unique_ personality.” There's something in his eyes as he looks at her now—something akin to fondness, even fascination—and she's not sure what to make of it. He turns to BB-8, who beeps at him before rolling to its charging spot and plugging in.

“You never did tell me your name,” he says, an amused smile tugging on his lips as he turns back around to find Rey unsuccessfully struggling with the tangled skirts of her dress.

“It’s Rey,” she replies breathily as he kneels before her and gently pushes her hands aside to untangle the skirts from around her legs. Her heart starts pounding when his hands linger on the backs of her thighs, and she is suddenly far more aware of how sensitive her skin is—she’s never been very comfortable with touch, but it’s like the spiced wine has washed away that inhibition, and has left only desire for _more_ in its place.

She stares down at him for a long, tense moment, her lips parted as she exhales shakily.

His eyes are dark and hooded as he gets to his feet, their bodies only centimeters apart, and she wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to do now—something to initiate the part of the evening she’d been dreading since that morning. And yet, when he trails his fingers up over her neck and jaw, into her hair, a shiver of dread makes its way down her spine, and she stiffens, despite her convincing inner monologue of, ‘I can do this, I need to do this, it’s just survival, nothing more.’

Poe moves back immediately, withdrawing his hands from her skin and eyeing her warily.

“Rey,” he mutters, eyes wide and a little concerned. “We don’t have to do anything, really. I just wanted company tonight.”

And he’s _so_ sincere and sweet, and she’s sure that if she told him she’d like nothing more than to go back to her own chambers and sleep for a week, he’d let her go without any hesitation—but she also knows that _she’s lucky_. Poe Dameron seems like a genuinely good person, and she’s actually fairly certain he has no idea they forced her into being here with him tonight.

He’s a nice guy—and she thinks she might be able to live with herself if she does this with him.

He’ll make it good for her, too.

If she doesn’t do this with him, it’ll be someone else—and she wants to have at least a little bit of choice in this. “No,” she swallows thickly and takes a step towards him again, reaching out for his hand and drawing it back to her body. “No, I do want to do this,” she tells him, studying the way his eyes darken as she deliberately presses her body against his.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he whispers, his fingers sliding across the soft fabric that covers her skin as he tugs her closer—she’s never been this close to another person, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating—and she’s so lost in her own head for a moment that she misses his intention until it’s too late and his lips are already on hers, his fingers tangling in her hair.

He takes advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen the kiss, and she’s so surprised and caught up in what kissing _feels_ like for a moment—and it’s unlike any other sensation she’s experienced before, and she cannot decide whether she likes it or not—that she completely disregards how terrifyingly _intimate_ this feels because…

Honestly.

It’s a really good kiss—as far as first kisses go, Rey is fairly certain she’s getting the best of the best.

But then he moves again, tilting his head a little, and his tongue slides against hers—and it’s _too much_ , she can’t _breathe_ , she can’t _think_ , she just needs him to _stop_. She jerks her head back, gasping for breath as Poe stares at her, his lips wet and a little swollen. “I don’t—” She chokes, “I mean—I can’t—it’s— _too much_ —”

“Hey, hey,” Poe steps forward again, a small frown wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows, cupping her face in his hands gently. “It’s okay. No kissing?”

She nods shakily, curling her fingers around his wrists as he drops his forehead to rest against hers. “I can do no kissing,” he replies with a quiet chuckle, before spinning her around by her shoulders. Her skin feels like it’s burning as he trails his lips over the back of her neck, and her heart is pounding so loudly, she’s almost surprised she can’t hear the sound echoing throughout the room.

She swallows thickly when she feels him undo the little buttons on the back of her dress, her heart squeezing a little when he presses a kiss to every new patch of skin he uncovers. The sensation of his lips on her bare skin is dizzying and addictive, and she can’t stop herself from arching into his touch, an involuntary moan spilling from her lips as he presses another wet, openmouthed kiss to her spine.

She likes this—she’s _enjoying_ this, and she wants to _cry_ in relief.

“Poe,” she whispers unsteadily when he kisses his way back up her spine, pushing the fabric of her dress down as he does—and she knows this is where she’s supposed to let the dress go, where she’s supposed to turn around and undress _him_ , but she can’t move.

Her fingers are clenched in the fabric of her dress that still covers her breasts, and she can’t convince herself to let go.

“Rey?”

She chews down on her lower lip nervously when he speaks her name, but allows him to spin her around again, so she’s facing him again. She keeps her eyes down, shying away from his gaze, because she doesn’t know what to _say_ —she doesn’t want him to know she’s a virgin.

She knows he’ll stop, tell her she needs to save that for someone special, and she _can’t_.

He’s the closest thing to a ‘someone special’ she’s going to get, and she doesn’t want to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

“Rey,” he starts again, his tone soft and kind. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because it—”

“No, I do,” she interrupts, looking up at him as she struggles to find a reasonable excuse for her skittish behavior. “I just… I haven’t done this a lot,” she stutters through the lie, her cheeks flaming as she drops her gaze to their feet once again. “I’m a little nervous.”

She doesn’t startle when his fingers slide along her jaw, tilting her chin up so she’s looking at him again, but her heart is still pounding in her chest, and she feels lightheaded, and she’s not sure if that’s an effect of the wine or just Poe Dameron himself. “You’re sure?” He asks her, one hand curled around the hand that is holding her dress up, the other gently cupping her cheek. “I mean it when I say we don’t have to—I’m just as content watching a holovid or playing a card game with you.”

“I’m sure,” she whispers, keeping her gaze trained on his. “I’m just… _new_ at this.”

Poe smiles at her—a beautiful, genuine smile that makes her wish she could have met him under different circumstances—before he leans in and presses a lingering kiss against the underside of her jaw. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, his breath hot against her skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

She watches, captivated, as he takes a step back, flashing her another grin before he draws his shirt over his head—her heart slams into her throat and her stomach clenches and _Force_ , she shouldn’t find this so arousing. She needs to remember that, while the best alternative, she is still being forced to sleep with him; that she doesn’t _really_ want him, that it’s just that kriffing wine that’s making her want him—but _Force_ , he’s good-looking and _so_ charming. 

She backs up a bit, towards the bed, relaxing her grip on her dress a little bit as she watches him shedding his clothes excruciatingly slowly.

By the time he is down to his underpants, her calves are pressed against the bedframe, and Poe is standing right in front of her again, slowly raising his hands to cover hers where she is still holding her dress up. “You can let go,” he whispers, slowly prying her fingers from the fabric. “You’re safe with me—I’m not going to hurt you.”  He grins cheekily and adds, “Also, this is a whole lot easier without the dress in the way.”

Rey snorts a laugh at that, but does as he suggests and loosens her grip on the silky fabric, keeping her eyes locked on his as it slips through her fingers and pools soundlessly at her feet.

His gaze stays on hers for a moment longer before he looks down, and she can feel her skin pucker beneath his heated, lustful gaze—and she doesn’t hate it as much as she thought she would—before he chokes, “ _Force_ , you’re beautiful.”

She swallows thickly, unsure of what to say to that.

“Well,” she breathes, tentatively reaching out, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear. “Fair’s fair. Take it off.” He chuckles in response, and she allows him to gently push her down onto the bed. She licks her lower lip, drawing it between her teeth as he steps back, pulling the underpants down his legs—something clenches deep inside her belly at the sight of his prominent erection.

She’s never actually _seen_ one before, but she’s fairly certain that Poe qualifies as _well-endowed_.

That’s probably a good thing.

She hopes it is anyway.

“Lie back,” he orders her, climbing onto the bed with her, his hands gentle as he pushes her back against the surprisingly soft sheets.

“Poe,” she whines when he drops several soft kisses up and down her neck, his hands kneading her breasts deliciously as he kneels between her legs. Her entire body is humming beneath his touch, and she finds it incredibly difficult to focus on anything but how _good_ he is making her feel.

His fingers skim down her trembling belly, and she shivers, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from moaning at an embarrassingly loud volume as one of his hands slips between her legs.

“Santa mierda,” he curses against her pulse point, his fingers rubbing over her lower lips gently before finding an extremely sensitive spot that makes her gasp and arch up into his touch because _kriff_ —

He rubs over that same little spot with barely any pressure and she keens, tangling her fingers in his hair—and _Force_ , his hair is _so_ soft—wordlessly pleading with him for _more_ , because his fingers just aren’t enough, and then he pushes one finger inside of her, and it’s the _strangest_ feeling she’s ever felt. She feels full and empty at the same time, and she can’t decide whether she hates or loves it.

“Oh,” she breathes, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, gasping for breath as she attempts to make sense of the myriad of emotions and feelings Poe is invoking. “Oh, _kriff_ , Poe!”

“Shh, mi cariña,” he whispers against her, pressing another finger into her. “I have you.” He shifts on top of her, and she feels him hot and hard against her thigh, and _she just wants more_. A frustrated groan falls from her lips, and her entire body trembles as she waits for—for—

She doesn’t know _what_ she’s waiting for, but she knows Poe is going to make sure she gets it.

His fingers push in a little deeper and she bites her tongue as her eyes flutter shut and she wants to scream as he pulls his fingers out of her again, because she wants _more_ and he promised her _more_ and if he doesn’t give her more, she might die of frustration.

That’s a thing, right?

“Dios mio,” Poe chokes, leaning up to look at her with wide eyes, swollen lips— _Force_ , he looks wrecked and she _loves_ it—and a somewhat delirious grin. “You’re _so_ responsive.”

And then he’s pulling his fingers back, hitching her leg higher up his waist as he kisses and bites at her neck and collarbone. His hand reaches between their bodies and a second later he’s _right_ _there_ , slipping into her, his thick head stretching her deliciously and painfully and she just—she wants _more_.

She digs her fingernails into his shoulders as he pushes in _deeper_ , and it _hurts_ —a short, sharp pain that quickly becomes a burning sensation. She gasps for breath, a tear rolling down her cheek as she realizes that she actually did it—and no matter how many times she reassures herself that she needed to do this, that she still _chose_ to live and fight, despite what she had to do to survive, it feels like a _loss_.

“ _Joder_ ,” Poe curses, staring down at her with wide, horrified eyes. “You were a _virgin_? Force, Rey, why didn’t you just _say_ that?”

She winces when he pulls out a little, and immediately tightens her legs around him, anchoring her fingers in his curls to keep him from jumping out of the bed. “I knew you’d stop,” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut a little when he slides back in a little bit. “I didn’t want you to stop. I just want you to— _move_. Poe, _please_.”

“ _Carajo_ , Rey,” Poe chokes, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “You’re killing me here.”

“So _move_ ,” she whines, rolling her hips up clumsily when he doesn't comply. She squeals in surprise when he moves suddenly, rolling them over so that she's straddling him, his penis still lodged deep inside of her, deeper than he had been before—and she's never felt so _full._

She gasps shakily, leaning forward to plant her hands firmly on his chest as she tries to find her bearings. “What—” She chokes, panting desperately, “what do you—what do I do?”

“Just move, mi cariña,” Poe moans, rolling his hips up—and _Force_ , that feels _delicious_ —as his hands settle on her hips. “You can set the pace. Just… Do what feels good.” He is breathing heavily, but he still smiles at her when she slowly and unsurely starts moving up and down on his length. She swivels her hips in a circle—Poe moans loudly at that, and she has to bite her own lip _hard_ to keep from crying out in pleasure.

And then he sits up suddenly, shifting inside of her, hitting a spot inside of her that makes her see _stars—_ she cries out at the sudden change in angle, curling her fingers into his hair as he kisses his way down her neck onto her chest. He catches a nipple between his lips and uses his teeth to tug on it gently, flicking his tongue across the bud, and _shite_ —his touch is electrifying, and she can't get enough of him. 

She starts bouncing up and down faster, straining the muscles in her legs to keep up the fast rhythm. 

“Poe,” she groans as he tightens his grip on her waist, their gazes locking as their movements slow, the pleasure so intense, it nearly hurts. The intimacy of their locked gaze isn’t lost on Rey, and it terrifies her beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. 

And then his hand is suddenly between their bodies again, thumb rubbing against that same incredible pleasure spot, and every nerve in her body spontaneously combusts—she feels like she's flying and falling and Poe is the only thing keeping her from crashing back down onto earth.

When she finally rouses herself from her post-coital stupor, she finds that Poe has moved them into a more comfortable position, cradling her body to his—and she wants to pull away, wants to just dress and leave, but she's more comfortable than she's been in her entire life, and she doesn't want to let go of that moment just yet.

For a few minutes, she allows herself to _breathe_ , her head resting on Poe’s chest, regulating her heavy breathing. “Do you need me to go?” She finally asks, keeping her voice low and soft, because she doesn't want to snap that peaceful little bubble they've created—she doesn't want to go, but Jessika had said Poe would probably expect her to, and she's just not sure of anything right now.

He's been everything but what she expected him to be.

Maybe he'll be different than expected in this as well.

“No,” he whispers back, equally quiet, as he draws the covers over their nude bodies. “No, I don't want you to go. Just… Go to sleep.”

And she'd argue, but she really _is_ tired—sex is far more tiring than she expected it to be—and she's really warm and comfortable in Poe's arms. “Okay,” she mutters, snuggling deeper into his arms, “but I have to go in the morning. Jessika is probably going to check on me.”

“Don't worry about that,” she hears him whisper, vaguely aware of his fingers sifting through her sweaty hair. “I'll sort things out with Jess. You just sleep.”

It's the best night of sleep she's had in a long time.


	2. Hux + Snoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For JuliaAurelia, who requested; "I'd like to see the deleted scene from this story where Snoke goes to the destroyed Hux and tells him not only is he going to be fixed up practically as good as new, but he's only going to be demoted one rank and can remain with the First Order."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had lots of fun writing this little chapter :D Hux is a difficult, but fun, character to write :D And Snoke's really just a psychopath. Julia, I hope it lives up to your expectations :D 
> 
> Thoughts? 
> 
> Love, Annaelle  
> PS Thank you to Meaghan for being the bestest, awesomest beta and friend ever! Love you, hon! :D

## “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.”  
—Sun Tzu

Brendol Hux II has never once allowed himself to be put in a vulnerable position that would require him to rely on others to ensure his survival. While many may underestimate his slim, pale form, they always fail to take his hidden musculature and his innate talent to assess any situation into account, and he ensures that error in judgement costs them dearly each time.

He has not earned the name of youngest General in the history of the Empire and the First Order by being overly sentimental and merciful, and he’s often wondered at the stupidity of those opposing him.

His father had taken great care to educate him on matters of military and political importance, and Hux had taken it upon himself to study military strategies and the history of the Empire during the entirety of his childhood and his education on Arkanis, to ensure he’d prove worthy of his father’s legacy.

Supreme Leader Snoke had rewarded his military prowess many times as he rose through the ranks of the First Order, and encouraged his taking initiative on several ambitious technological projects.

The proof of the Supreme Leader’s wisdom in allowing Hux said freedom now sits hidden in the Unknown Regions, far from the prying eyes of the New Republic and the Resistance. Hux is absolutely certain that the weapon he has created will adequately display the _power_ the First Order is capable of wielding, and will aid them in achieving their goal to restore _order_ to the Galaxy.

Starkiller Base is his greatest accomplishment as of yet, and he is certain that the Supreme Leader will finally comprehend the reliability of his skills and technological knowledge rather than relying on the unpredictable and frankly chaotic tactics of _Kylo Ren_ and the Force.

Hux can’t suppress the urge to sneer as his mind strays to the aggravating, unstable, and destructive Master of the Knights of Ren—he _loathes_ the man with his entire being, and if the Supreme Leader would only allow it, Hux would have arranged to do away with the bothersome man-child years ago. Ridding himself of the nuisance that is Kylo Ren would, undoubtedly, have saved the First Order millions of credits’ worth of repairs, as well.

The Knights of Ren may add a certain mystical allure to their ranks, and Hux is all too aware that they are a force to be reckoned with in any battle, but he holds little faith in their so-called loyalty. 

He had witnessed the fight between Kylo Ren and the previous Master of Ren, when Kylo had hardly been out of his teens, and even he had been forced to admit that the boy had been a formidable opponent, exceptionally capable of holding his own against a man who had more years of experience than Kylo himself had been alive, and ultimately being able to defeat him. Hux had watched, mystified, as each and every member of the Knights had bowed down to the teenager, swearing their allegiance to him.

Hux may not be an expert in matters pertaining to the Force, but he knows about inspiring loyalties within the ranks of his subordinates, and while Kylo Ren may follow the Supreme Leader’s word, Hux is fairly certain that the Knights of Ren will only follow Kylo Ren.

He’s certain that will come into play at some point, and it will likely not be to his advantage.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader has asked for your presence.”

Hux tilts his head to acknowledge that he heard Captain Phasma’s words, but does not yet avert his gaze from the beauty of Starkiller Base. He had been forced to accompany Kylo Ren on his absurd mission to Jakku—Hux honestly fails to see the validity in chasing down a tired old man who had been in hiding for over a decade—to assume command of The Finalizer while Ren chased down the elusive map that would supposedly lead them straight to Luke Skywalker.

Hux has to admit that he had been sufficiently impressed when Ren returned to The Finalizer with the Resistance’s poster boy as his prisoner, though the younger man’s failure to procure the map irritated him terribly. Still, he had greatly enjoyed the opportunity to gather a meeting with his best strategists to discuss the best course of action once Poe Dameron had outlived his usefulness.

The Resistance had been a thorn in his side for years, and he would have enjoyed arranging their beloved pilot’s _public_ execution—and he would have, if not for FN-2187’s traitorous actions.

And now Ren had brought back yet another prisoner instead of the droid that held the map. Hux knows little of this prisoner as of yet, but he expects a detailed report from the troopers guarding the cell at any moment now.

With a reluctant sigh, he brushes a few invisible specks of dust from his meticulous uniform and turns on his heel, striding out of the command centre, his hands clasped on his back as he makes his way through the ship towards the large room on the lower decks that houses Snoke’s ‘throne’.

He, personally, does not see the need for such theatrics, but he is willing to grant the Supreme Leader his quirks—every brilliant man has one or two, after all—in the face of his wisdom.

A small part of him revels in the way Stormtroopers and officers alike step aside when he passes them, their heads bowed in quiet submission. Hux likes to think he worked hard to be worthy of such admiration and frightened reverence, unlike Lord Snoke’s precious Apprentice, who simply killed at random and destroyed whatever piece of equipment happened to be in the same room as him.

He ignores the Stormtroopers that are assigned to guard the room—it is, in a sense, a fairly nonsensical job, since there is no one actually present in the chamber—and enters the cavernous, dark room. The room is an identical, but smaller, copy of the cavernous throne room he had built for the Supreme Leader on Starkiller Base, and the smaller size of the room only serves to accentuate the awe-inspiring enormity of Snoke’s hologram.

Hux has wondered before if the size of the hologram is meant only as a tool of intimidation, given the Supreme Leader’s less than impressive real-life stature. In the end, he supposes it matters very little, but it had been an amusing thread of thought to pursue on long, sleepless nights.

“Supreme Leader,” he bows at the waist before the hologram, holding the position for a moment before he straightens, clasping his hands behind his back. “You sent for me?”

"General.”

Snoke’s voice is cold and Hux can tell he is measuring each word before he says it out loud. “Yes, I have a new assignment for you. It is a matter of utmost urgency and one that requires the strictest form of discretion.”

Hux frowns, somewhat insulted by the implication that he would betray the Supreme Leader’s confidence, but before he can comment on it, to assure the Supreme Leader of his silence on whatever matter he spoke of, Snoke speaks again. “None shall be told of this assignment—and none shall be told that it was I who gave you the assignment.”

There is a grave edge to the Supreme Leader’s tone that should frighten Hux—that _does_ frighten him, if he is completely honest—but he shakes all such emotions and focuses on achieving whatever task it is that is so important that the Supreme Leader would entrust it only to him.

Pride swells within him, and he narrowly manages to avoid a smug grin.“Of course, milord,” he nods. “Anything to help further our cause.”

Snoke leans back into his throne and regards Hux closely. If they were on the same planet, or even the same system, Hux is certain the Supreme Leader would dig into his mind rather painfully, to ascertain that Hux were speaking the truth, but as it is, his word seems to be enough of an assurance.

“Our conversation will be shielded from prying eyes after you have completed your assignment,” Snoke tells him, pressing his fingertips together. “You will be _aided_ in keeping your thoughts on the matter to yourself, and you will be unable to speak of it to anyone but me and a confidant of my choosing. You will have to endure quite a bit of pain and humiliation. It is, however, the only manner to ensure that the First Order will emerge victorious from this infernal conflict.”

There is a small voice in the back of his mind that questions the sanity of agreeing to such vague and distinctly unpleasant terms, but he is nothing if not dedicated to the cause.

If this assignment will further their attempts to bring order to the Galaxy, he will take it and any consequences that should follow.

“As you wish, Supreme Leader,” Hux inclines his head towards the hologram.

“Kylo Ren has taken a prisoner on Takodana,” the Supreme Leader speaks, a vaguely pleased smile tugging his thin lips into a grotesque imitation of a smile. “A Force-sensitive girl, who has consented to be his Apprentice. She will be _very_ useful to our cause, if given the proper motivation.”

Hux is barely able to conceal his irritation at the mere thought of having to put up with yet another _Force-sensitive_ Knight, but nods calmly nonetheless. “What is it that you need me to do, Milord?”

Snoke’s beady eyes are entirely focused on him now, and it would unnerve him if he had not been accustomed to it. “She is one of the Resistance’s whores. She needs to be shown her place—you will show her said place. Exert whatever dominance you need to, and ensure that you use sexual means. Take whatever pleasure you can from the encounter. I shall see to it that Kylo Ren remains occupied for the duration of your _task_.”

There is a certain edge of awareness in the back of his mind; a whisper that tells him this is the kind of thing he should be fighting to _prevent_ , not inflict. There is, however, a darker and stronger part of him that looks forward to _breaking_ Kylo Ren’s new toy—that can hardly wait to show a filthy little Resistance slut her place in their hierarchy, and he finds himself nodding before he has fully processed the order or its implications.

“Yes, Supreme Leader. It will be done.”

.

.

.

His head aches and his face throbs when he awakens. His limbs are heavy and uncooperative when he attempts, rather tenderly, to move them, and his mind feels sluggish and confused in the first moments after he blinks his eyes open to stare at the stark white ceiling of the infirmary. There is, however, less pain than there has been in a while—since Kylo Ren’s little slut had tattled and the impertinent man-child had bodily dragged him from his quarters to one of the holding cells.

He had been beaten and humiliated, even sentenced to _death_ , and he had found himself in doubt of the Supreme Leader’s wisdom for a brief moment—surely his death would accomplish nothing in the greater scheme of things—before the girl had intervened and refused to pull the trigger.

He grudgingly has to admit that the sheer _ruthlessness_ behind her reasoning to keep him alive was rather impressive, and if she were not Force-sensitive or a Resistance whore, he would gladly have taken her on as an apprentice himself. She would make a fine officer for the First Order, and he knows when to appreciate strength when he sees it.

He had also, while imprisoned, wondered what the Supreme Leader hoped to achieve by ordering him to abuse the Resistance girl as he had, but had ultimately decided that he had no right to question the Supreme Leader’s wisdom and methods.

A few added scars to the collection that already adorns his body is a sacrifice had always been willing to make for the First Order and the good of the galaxy.

He would simply shrug it off and continue on, proving to everyone who had ever doubted him that he was more than strong enough to do whatever it took to save the Galaxy from itself.

“ _Colonel_ Hux,” a cool, steady, familiar voice speaks from the doorway, and he shoots up immediately, reaching for anything that may serve him as a weapon before he realizes who is standing at the door. He lowers the datapad he had procured from the table beside his bed and settles himself back onto the cushions, suppressing a wince when several unhealed bruises make their presence known.

“What are you doing here?” He demands sternly, folding the sheets to cover him up to his waist neatly as he waits for a reply from the figure before him.

There is no reply, and Hux takes the opportunity to study the private room he’d been sequestered in. It is a cold, impersonal room, with little comforts for whichever patient would find themselves in here, but it fills Hux with an odd sense of nostalgia. It is not at all unlike the room he had occupied for four years while at Arkanis Academy, and he is unprepared for the barrage of emotions that the memory evokes.

It is unsettling and unfamiliar to be unable to ignore or regulate his emotions, and it is not until his companion snorts in amusement that he realizes they must still have their hooks in his mind, repressing the memory of the Supreme Leader giving him orders to break Ren’s newest toy.

“It is the medication they have given you,” they tell him, and his head swims as he blinks up at them blearily. “It clouds one’s judgement and is known for its magnifying effects on human emotions. It’ll wear off soon. Meanwhile, I will make sure you will not tell anyone anything you shouldn’t.”

The words are menacing and disdainful, and even drugged up, Hux realizes that it would not be wise to antagonize the person standing before him. “Why am I not in the barracks?” He demands then, recalling those agonizing moments where he had been crumpled in the snow, bloodied and beaten, as the girl demanded his demotion and survival.

He had assumed a demotion would mean black body gloves and white plastoid-composite body armour.

He does not respond to the snort of derision that follows his question, and simply glares at his visitor until they sigh and reply, “Your demotion is one for appearance’s sake only. The girl and Kylo Ren will be pre-occupied on Moraband for the time being, and the Supreme Leader needs your expertise for the Starkiller project. Once the girl has been fully turned to the Dark Side, she will understand, and your rank as General will be reinstated.”

Hux is uncertain what to think of such deception within their ranks—he certainly needs no further reason to aggravate the two most dangerous Force-sensitive beings in the Galaxy—but ultimately decides it is not his decision to make.

He has faith in the Supreme Leader.


End file.
